"Spilled the beans, didn't I? That comes from talking too much. However, there is no harm done. Sure she left with us, but we dropped her out at Fairlawn. It was her machine we were riding in. Say, you've questioned me about enough, so let up. Listen now--you will stay in this stateroom until we get ready to let you out. Don't try any funny business either, for if you do, you are going to get hurt. There is a guard outside in the cabin, and we are not afraid to shoot out here on the lake. Nobody knows where you are, West; so if you want to live, keep quiet--that's my advice." He started back, one hand on the knob of the door, but West stopped him. "Do you mind telling me where we are bound?" he questioned. Hogan smiled, but the smile was not altogether a pleasant one. "You will have to wait, and find that out for yourself, Captain. My orders are not to talk." "From Hobart?" "Sure; Jim is engineering this deal, and whatever he says goes, for he's the guy who has his hands on the dough--see?" He slipped out, closing and locking the door behind him. West, more thoroughly confused than ever over the situation in which he found himself, paced the brief length of the narrow stateroom, and then paused to stare moodily out of the port. His eyes rested on the same wide expanse of water, no longer brightened by the glow of the sun. A mass of clouds veiled the sky, while a floating bank of fog obscured the horizon, limiting the scope of his vision. Everything appeared grey and desolate, and the restless surge of waves were crested with foam. It was hard to judge just where the sun was, yet he had an impression the vessel had veered to the north, and was proceeding straight up the lake, already well out of sight from either shore.